


An Unexpected Visitor

by TheFeistyRogue



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Good Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Hogwarts, Hogwarts Letters, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Magic, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Post-Hogwarts, Redeemed Dudley Dursley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 10:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20208442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFeistyRogue/pseuds/TheFeistyRogue
Summary: Dudley Dursley's life is good. He has a beautiful wife, a darling daughter, and a barbeque that never fails him.Then, on his daughter's eleventh birthday, his entire world is turned upside down.





	An Unexpected Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Reddit User 15_Redstones for the follwing prompt:
> 
> Harry got raised by someone else (Sirius, McGonagall, Remus, doesn't matter) and wins. Decades later Dudley's daughter still gets her Hogwarts letter, and he has no idea about magic.

Dudley dug his spatula under the burger and flipped it, repeating the motion with the rest of the food on the barbeque. The scent of cooking meat, sizzling onions, and the smoky coals never failed to put a smile on his face. These days, he was limited to one burger a week, and now that he had the freedom and the ability to cook for himself, he was always out barbecuing his food, rain or shine. Today was a lovely autumn evening, the warmth of summer still present, unsurprising for the mid-September heatwave they were having. Primrose, his darling daughter, had been allowed to go to school in shorts and a t-shirt, and Emily, his beautiful wife, had abandoned her usual suits for loose flowing dresses. He certainly wasn’t going to object.

“Have you heard from your mother, love?” Emily poked her head out the backdoor, her golden hair perfectly curled, dressed in a demure, ankle-length flowery skirt and a white blouse, wearing a hint of mascara and lipstick. She didn’t usually bother with makeup unless mum was coming over or she was attending an important meeting at the university.

With a sigh, Dudley checked the time on his phone. It was a little after six.

“She called to say she was leaving about an hour ago. With traffic as it is on a Friday evening, she could be here any minute, or not for ages.”

“I suppose the traffic is the devil’s work, as well?”

Dudley snorted. “You know it.”

Emily grinned at him as they shared a moment of commiseration at his mum’s inability to accept anything more technologically advanced than a landline phone. Then she twitched, her smile becoming plastic and she tilted her head to one side. 

“That’s the doorbell,” she said. “I’ll get it, shall I?”

With a sigh, Dudley nodded. “Send her straight outside. Tell Prim not to worry about coming down until it’s dinner, okay?”

Dudley loved his mother, but he wasn’t blind to her faults. He had been, once, while he’d still lived with her, but getting accepted into Oxford Brookes to study Nutrition had been the best thing to ever happen to him. He’d applied as a lark, encouraged by his sixth form tutor, and had been astounded that he’d been accepted. Leaving home led to several revelations: that he was a fat-ass with no work ethic, that he actually did love food and could possibly make a living out of cooking it, and that his weird cousin that had stayed with them until he was eight had been mistreated beyond belief. Moving away had truly been eye-opening and he didn’t regret it for a second. After all, it was in Oxford that he’d met Emily. She’d been working as a TA for one of the physics professors at the ‘official’ Oxford uni and he’d bumped into her a few times in their favourite sushi bar. One thing had led to another and Dudley had declared his undying love and refused to cook for her until she’d married him.

“Diddums!”

Dudley steeled himself and turned to face his mum. Crow’s feet creased her eyes and frown lines split her forehead. She was smiling, face lit up with joy—it wouldn’t last. It never did.

“Mum!” He drew her into a hug. She smelled of lavender, as she always had. Once, it had reminded him of safety and home, but now it made him feel nauseous as he was reminded of his childhood.

“That wife of yours really shouldn’t force you to slave away out here,” Mum said, frowning as she looked at the apron he wore.

So it began.

“I like cooking, Mum,” he said, the same thing he’d told her for years. Emily was the breadwinner and Dudley was the breadmaker. That was how they liked it.

“And he’s wonderful!” Emily added, appearing from inside. She winked at him. “Better than any five-star chef, is our Dudders.”

“Hmpf.” His mother peered, beady-eyed, over the fence that looked into the neighbour’s garden. They were out for the evening and her lips pursed as she eyed their lawn. Probably criticising how well they’d mowed their grass, or some nonsense.

“Can I get you a drink, Mrs Dursley?” Emily asked. “Gin and tonic, perhaps? Or a glass of rosé?”

“White wine,” Mum said, as always. She took a seat in one of their garden chairs after brushing down the cushion. “Chardonnay.”

“Of course. Dudley?”

“I’ll have a beer, thanks.”

Emily disappeared back into the house. Dudley hid a sigh of relief. He hated her spending more time with his mother than she had to. Mum seemed to manage to find a flaw in everything that she did.

“Where’s that daughter of yours, then?” Mum asked. “Not running wild, I hope.”

“No, mum. She’s upstairs doing her homework,” Dudley lied. In truth, Prim was likely engrossed in a book; it was hard to get her to stop reading for meals, sometimes. Certainly not a trait she’d inherited from him.

“Eleven, today,” Mum said, looking into the distance with a strange expression upon her face. “Doesn’t time fly.”

“We’re taking her to the zoo for her birthday this weekend,” Dudley said. “Tomorrow, in fact. Would you like to come?”

“She’s very well behaved. Nothing abnormal about her,” Mum murmured, as if to herself.

“Of course not,” Dudley snapped. “She’s my daughter.” He felt the anger he’d been well-known for as a child brewing in his gut. He forced himself to take a breath and count to ten. His mother was only staying for the weekend. She’d be gone before he knew it.

Turning back to the barbeque, Dudley began placing slices of cheese on the burgers. The sausages he took off the flame and he turned down the heat. Everything would be done in a few more minutes.

“Nothing… peculiar has happened, lately?” Mum asked.

“What on earth are you on about?” Dudley growled. He took another breath. “Just one moment, Mum.”

He turned the barbeque down even further and marched indoors. Emily met him halfway into the kitchen.

“Love, are you okay?”

“Just my mother being her usual self,” he muttered. He paced back and forth, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How dare she speak about Prim like that?”

“It’s your mother,” Emily said, eminently practical. “She’s always been eccentric.”

Dudley scoffed. “Eccentric! Ha! That’s one word for it.”

Just then, the doorbell rang. Dudley frowned at Emily, who raised her eyebrows in return.

“No idea,” she said in answer to his silent question. 

Several thuds on the stairs alerted them to the fact that their daughter was going to answer the door if they didn’t. 

“I’ll deal with your mum,” Emily said, holding up the glass of wine in her hand. “You deal with whoever that is.”

“You’re too good to me,” Dudley said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“You know it,” Emily said and winked. She strode out of the kitchen and Dudley could hear the faint echo of her voice asking Mum if she’d seen the latest _ Hello _magazine. He sighed and stepped into the hallway. Prim had beaten him to the door and it opened to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit standing on the other side.

“Hello,” the man said. He had dark, messy hair and green eyes that gleamed behind golden-rimmed spectacles. Something inside Dudley jolted: he recognised the man. “My name is Harry Potter. Would you be Primrose Dursley?”

“Harry!” Dudley blurted, drawing their attention. Prim turned and beamed at him. Her auburn hair fell past her shoulders and she had Emily’s startling blue eyes.

“Hello, daddy!” she said. She turned back to Harry. “That’s me! Primrose Alexandra Dursley.”

Upon catching sight of him Harry gave a jaunty wave. “Dudley. Long-time no-see!”

“You could say that!” Dudley spluttered. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Prim’s arm. “Sweetie, go find mum and tell her that Dudley’s just catching up with an old friend, will you? Tell Grandma I’ll be through in just a moment.”

Why the hell was Harry Potter standing at his door, on Prim’s birthday, nonetheless?

“Grandma?” Harry asked, straightening. His hand went to his hip before he tucked it into his pocket. “Petunia?”

Dudley sighed and motioned Harry in as Prim ran off to do his bidding. No doubt his mum would soon be hearing about the mysterious ‘Harry Potter’. The last thing he needed was her interfering, no matter the reason Harry was here.

“Come into the living room,” Dudley said. “Yeah, Petunia. Dad passed a few years back. It’s just mum, now.”

He closed the door behind them. Harry stood in the middle of the room, smiling widely. He was so different from the scrawny child that Dudley remembered. No doubt Dudley was different too—he was probably still the same weight now as his adolescent self had been then.

God, this was weird.

“Harry,” he began. “I don’t know why you’re here, but before you say anything, I just want to say how sorry I am—for everything. I was vile brat of a child, as I’m sure you remember. My parents were even worse. I’ve had therapy, since, and my wife is the most wonderful person in the world and she’s helped me so much. I’m not that person anymore. I just—I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember why your parents treated me so badly?” Harry asked. His smile was still wide, but it became more natural, less plastered on. Dudley couldn’t help but wonder what Harry had been through to learn to fake such an expression.

Dudley shook his head when he realised he hadn’t answered the question.

“Er, no. Was there a reason?

Harry seemed to deflate. He tugged at the knot of his tie, yanking it off, dismissing the image of the successful businessman somewhat as he shoved the tie in his pocket. The suit was still finely made, as far as Dudley could tell, and his shoes were polished, his shirt ironed to perfection.

“Why are you here, Harry?” he finally asked when his cousin remained silent. “I would love to catch up, I really would. But my mum’s here and today’s Prim’s birthday. Are you free later in the week?”

“Prim’s birthday,” Harry said. “That’s why I’m here.”

Before Dudley could demand an explanation, a shriek caught his attention. It sounded as if his mother was screaming. He exchanged a panicked look with Harry then burst out of the lounge, sprinting through the house and out the back door.

“Don’t you touch my daughter, you evil harpy!” Emily cried, clutching Prim to her body.

Mum was standing, staring at Prim as if she’d never seen her before, her teeth bared.

“She’s cursed!” Mum cried. “A freak.”

“Mum!”

“SILENCE!”

Harry’s voice rang out and it was as if a vacuum fell over them all. Mum opened her mouth several times to cry out, only to clutch at her throat as she uttered no sounds. Dudley turned to Emily and demanded to know what was going on, but again, no sound could be heard. Emily was crying silently, holding Prim close to her chest.

“This is why I’m here,” Harry said, sounding weary. “I’m sorry. That was unfair of me.”

Dudley turned back to Harry, who withdrew a stick from his pocket. Mum shrank away from him, paling. Harry flicked his stick and Dudley gasped, able to speak once more.

“What the hell is going on?” he growled. 

Harry shot him a pained looked. Dudley took a breath to calm himself. Whatever was going on, it was hardly Harry’s fault.

“The reason that your mum hated me is because I am a wizard,” Harry said. “So was my mother, your mum’s sister. The reason I’m here? I’m the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts School and Witchcraft and Wizardry and I would like to offer your daughter an invitation to attend. Primrose is a witch, the female equivalent of a wizard. She can perform magic.”

Part of Dudley resisted, but another part of him remembered the peculiar incidences that used to happen around Harry when he’d lived with them. He’d never seen them happen around Prim, but then he remembered the time the street had had a power-cut, yet theirs had been the only house in the neighbourhood to keep on all their lights.

Prim had always hated the dark.

“She’s a freak!” Mum screeched. “That’s what you mean.”

Dudley took a deep breath and met Harry’s gaze. “Please can you quiet her?” he asked. “I don’t want my daughter hearing this vitriol.”

Harry’s eyes widened, then he flicked his stick again, silencing his mother mid-sentence. Dudley bit back a gasp. It seemed impossible. It _ was _ impossible.

“What? I don’t understand!” Emily cried. “There’s no such thing as magic.”

There wasn’t. It was true. Surely if magic existed, then everyone would know? Dudley was beginning to doubt himself, when a small voice piped up.

“It’s true,” Prim said. She pulled away from Emily and turned to look up at them with defiance in her eyes. “I can do magic. I just didn’t tell you.”

Prim closed her hands and stretched out an arm. All the cutlery on the table began to shake, then slowly rose a foot above the placemats.

“What?” Emily said. A mixture of intrigue and bafflement flickered across her face. “How?”

The cutlery clattered back down. Prim shrugged, turning back to hug Emily once more. Dudley wanted to join them, but he felt frozen to the spot, staring at the table as if the entire thing might levitate.

Magic. Impossible. But it was happening right before his very eyes.

A slow clap echoed around the garden. Dudley looked over at Harry, who was smiling at Emily with delight.

“Amazing!” Harry said, grinning. “I’ve never seen such control in my life. She probably gets that from my mother, you know. Your great-aunt, Primrose. The most brilliant witch of her time.”

Prim turned back to face them, a faint smile creeping across her face. “Really?” she asked, sounding more hopeful that Dudley had even realised she could be. Emily clutched at her shoulders, seemingly in shock. Prim looked at Harry as if he held all the answers to the questions she held deep inside herself, hidden from the world.

In that moment, Dudley knew he’d never deny Prim a single thing, whether it was magic or a pony or a trip to Mars.

“Really,” Harry agreed. He got down on his knees. “We’re related, you know. I can perform magic too. Want me to tell you more?”

“One moment,” Dudley said, although he ached to hear Harry’s story and was desperate to find out more. “Harry, Mum—with me.”

Mum was cowering in the corner of the garden, as if hoping she’d be forgotten. Dudley marched her through his house, Harry following on his tail. When they got to the front door, Dudley turned on her, frowning.

“Mum, your behaviour today was despicable. Don’t ever come back to my house, not until you’ve apologised and acknowledged that you’re in the wrong. Do you understand?” 

Dudley noticed the flick of Harry’s stick. Mum huffed in a breath, able to speak again. Her lips pursed and she drew herself up to her full height.

“Perfectly,” she snapped. “Don’t contact me, not if you’re going to be associating with those freaks.” She stormed away and got into her car, squealing out of the drive.

“Shit,” Dudley said, once she was gone. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out, but it had been a long time coming.

“Sorry,” Harry said, quiet by his side. 

Dudley snorted. “Not your bloody fault. She’s a psycho. I guess I just never knew how much. Will you come back in, Harry, and tell us a bit more about this all? Please?”

It was still difficult for Dudley to believe. As he locked the door, motioning for Harry to go before him, he wondered if maybe all that he’d seen were tricks. His parents had been adamant that magic wasn’t real—but of course they had. They’d justified Harry’s abuse with the excuse that he deserved it. Dudley had never understood why, until now. 

They walked back into the garden. Cupped in Prim’s hands was a glowing, golden light.

“Magic, dad!” she said, beaming at him. “Look!”

Emily was staring, stars in her eyes, the same look she’d given him when he’d proposed.

“This is amazing,” Emily whispered. “I’m struggling to believe. But I want to.”

“Me too,” Dudley said. He’d never wanted to believe in something more. It was enchanting. Intoxicating. Almost too good to be true.

Harry shot him a sideways look, then smirked.

“Why don’t I show you what a real wizard can do?” he said. “I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts. The previous teacher took me from Dudley’s parents, you know, and raised me as her own. She was quite exceptional. I can only hope to one day be half as good as her.”

“Yes, please!” Prim begged, darting to stand by his side. Dudley exchanged a look with Emily, then nodded. Harry beamed, raising his stick—his wand. Golden sparks flew from the tip and the garden began to transform, plants into animals, chairs into thrones, the figures on the fountain coming to life and beginning to dance a waltz…

It was magical. 


End file.
